


Rolling Stone

by rpfwriters



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Dom Chris Evans, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader, Gen, Language, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpfwriters/pseuds/rpfwriters
Summary: Inspired by the photo below which has crossed our dash countless times in the last few days. Photo is by Peggy Sirota for Rolling Stone. That is the Peggy mentioned in the fic.





	Rolling Stone

“Pull the shirt up a couple of inches, Y/N,” Peggy instructed. “I want to see skin, see that black band of his briefs right above his jeans.”

“Why don’t I just take the fucking thing off?” Chris muttered under his breath, loud enough that only you could hear him.

You bit your lip and tried not to giggle, even as Chris reached over and squeezed your knee. You pulled some powder from the makeup kit around your waist and dusted it across his arm, taking the shine off of his bicep.

“Y/N, do something with his hair, I don’t want it covering his forehead. And pull that sleeve up a little so we can see his tattoo.” Peggy wasn’t even looking your way, she was fiddling with her camera and adjusting the lights.

You pushed up the sleeve she’d indicated, your fingers lingering on his tattoo, gently tracing it. His eyes were on your face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his blue eyes blown wide with what you knew was desire. You’d seen it enough to know. You ran your fingers through his hair, his breath quickening as you leaned over him.

“Y/N…” he warned.

“I’m just doing my job, Chris,” you murmured.

“I know, but you’re killing me,” he growled, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips, his bicep flexing as he clenched his fists. “I’m lying here on the floor while you run your fingers through my hair and mess with my clothes. That’s the kind of shit we usually save for the bedroom.”

You chanced a quick look over your shoulder, but no one was paying attention to either of you, so you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, your hand sliding down his stomach and over the bulge in his jeans, squeezing gently.

“Alright, I think we’re ready,” Peggy announced.

You released Chris, winked, and jumped to your feet. You stepped behind the photographer, waiting for any further orders. You fiddled with your makeup kit, refusing to look Chris’s way, though you could feel his glare from across the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shifting, yanking at his jeans, obviously trying to get comfortable, freezing when Peggy called his name, looking up and toward her.

Fuck, he was gorgeous.

And he was yours. The two of you had met on the set of  _Playing It Cool_  and you’d hit it off. Chris had asked you out to dinner, and before you knew it, the two of you had starting seeing each other, quickly becoming serious. You tried to keep your personal and professional life separate, not allowing Chris to help you find work as a hair and makeup artist, even though he’d offered numerous times. You wouldn’t even let people know you were dating, worried you’d get jobs because you were Chris Evans’ girlfriend. You were doing well on your own, working on several movies, television shows, and photoshoots. You’d accepted this job with Peggy Sirota before you knew the subject was Chris Evans. You’d nearly burst out laughing when he’d come through the door, his beat up backpack slung over his shoulder, baseball cap on. It had been hard to remain professional when all you wanted to do was rip Chris’s clothes off. You weren’t sure if anyone else noticed it - and God, you hoped they didn’t - but the sexual tension between the two of you was off the charts. You couldn’t wait for this shoot to be over.

It was almost three hours before Peggy wrapped things up, and it was obvious that Chris was ready for it to be over. He was bouncing on his toes and fidgeting constantly. One of Peggy’s assistants commented that he seemed agitated, like he had somewhere to be, and he’d burst out laughing.

“Just anxious to get some time alone with my girlfriend,” he shrugged.

Every head turned his direction and of course, questions started flying, but he refused to answer any of them. He grabbed his backpack, kissed Peggy on the cheek, tossed a wink your direction, and disappeared out the door, his bodyguard close behind.

It was another hour before you were able to leave, throwing your stuff in your car and making your way through the city to Chris’s place. He had the door open before you’d even finished knocking.

A startled squeak left you as Chris pulled you inside and slammed the door. He pushed you against the wall, his mouth slanted over yours. He yanked your bag out of your hand and tossed it aside, his mouth moving against yours. When he finally released you, you were gasping for air.

“Bedroom. Now.” He took your hand and dragged you after him through the house, finally coming to a stop in his bedroom. He kicked the door closed, ignoring Dodger’s irritated huff, and pulled you back into his arms, his mouth on yours, walking you backwards to the bed.

“You thought you were awful cute today, didn’t you?” he mumbled. “Getting me all riled up like that. Do you know what you were doing to me? Do you know how much I wanted to fuck you?”

“Babe -”

“Don’t talk,” he ordered. “Sit down.”

Your mouth snapped shut and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sharp tone of his voice, but you immediately obeyed. You were going to pay for what happened earlier at the photoshoot, pay for the way you’d teased him. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach at the thought of what Chris might have planned, a delicious tingling sensation working its way through you.

Chris crouched in front of you, his hands on your thighs, sliding beneath your skirt, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. You wanted those hands to slide up your legs, you wanted him to touch you, desperately wanted him to touch you. You shifted uneasily, moaning low in the back of your throat.

He leaned over you, his mouth against your ear, his hands on your inner thighs, his fingers not quite touching you, but oh so close, close enough to make your pussy clench in anticipation.

“Nervous, Y/N?” he whispered.

“N-no,” you stammered. “Anxious.”

Chris laughed, his head thrown back. He stood up and nodded at you. “Get out of those clothes.”

You yanked off your shirt and threw it to the floor. Your bra and skirt quickly followed, but when you reached for your panties, Chris grabbed your hand and stopped you.

“Leave those on,” he said. He sat beside you on the king size bed. “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let him pull you over his lap, your ass in the air, his arousal, still trapped behind his jeans, pressing against your stomach. He pulled aside the thin material of your panties and caressed your left buttcheek, his touch soft, gentle. Chris pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his beard tickling you.

“Breathe,” he hummed.

A hard slap landed on your left buttcheek, stinging, immediately followed by the rough caress of his hand. A second later, another slap landed on the other cheek, the sharp pain making you moan. Chris’s fingers hooked in your underwear and then he was yanking them off, tossing them to the floor. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers drifting over the lips of your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against the sensitive skin behind your ear. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you? So wet. You like it when I spank you, don’t you?” His finger circled your clit, making you squirm and moan.

Another slap landed on your ass, making you yelp. Your nipples brushed against Chris’s denim clad leg, hardening immediately, deliciously.

“Use your words, baby,” he murmured.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Jesus Christ, yes, I love it when you spank me.”

Chris’s lips were on you, kissing a trail down your spine. His arm circled you, one hand on your breast, two fingers pinching the nipple, the fingers of his other hand gently caressing the lips of your pussy. You were moaning using your feet to rock back and forth, desperate for Chris to touch you, to fuck you, begging him to touch you, to fuck you.

“Mmm, not yet,” Chris murmured. He laid another hard slap right in the middle of your ass, the sting perfect. He’d no more finished before he was laying you across the bed, his fingers sinking into you, his mouth closing on your breast, sucking the nipple between his teeth, your ass still burning from the punishment.

You gasped, your body jerking, writhing, the sting of the slap, the pleasure of his mouth on your breast, and the feel of Chris’s fingers buried deep in your pussy pushing you right up to the edge. You were close, about to come, your hips rising and falling with the rhythm of Chris’s hand, your eyes closed in anticipation. His thumb pressed against your clit, his long fingers still thrusting, driving you nearly insane.

“Please, Chris, please, baby,” you begged. “Please let me come, fuck, I wanna come so bad.”

“Not until I’m inside you, sweetheart,” he growled, his lips against your ear.

In one swift motion, he lifted you and rose to his feet, then he set you on the bed on all fours. He stood behind you and yanked open his jeans, then his huge cock was pushing into your entrance, stretching you in the most delicious way, making you moan with delight.

Chris pulled out until just the tip of his cock remained inside of you, brushing against your sweet spot, teasing you, winding you up. You were close to begging for more when he slammed into you, landing another hard slap to your ass as his cock filled you.

You screamed, falling forward, your ass completely in the air, your face buried in the blankets on the bed, your fists clenching the sheets so tight, your knuckles ached. Chris did it again, another smack to the ass as he thrust forward, the combination so intense you could barely hold back. There were tears in the corner of your eyes and you were panting, your body wound so tight you were pretty sure you were going to pass out from sheer ecstasy.

“You wanna come, baby?” Chris mumbled.

“Yes, please,” you begged. “Please let me come.”

Chris pumped his hips several times, shallow thrusts that barely moved you, getting ready for the moment he gave you permission to come. His grip on your hips tightened noticeably, bruisingly tight, and then he was plunging into you, his hand landing on your right asscheek, hard, jolting you, his “now” almost lost in the firestorm of noise going off in your head. He continued fucking you from behind while you thrashed beneath him, completely lost in the orgasm washing away every other sensation. You came again and again, the pleasure so overwhelming it was almost too much to handle, your body instinctively trying to escape the crazy rollercoaster of sensations it was feeling.

You were still trembling, pleasure still rolling through you, when Chris sat at the head of the bed, dragged you into his lap, his clothes now discarded, and guided himself to your entrance.

You eased down onto him, the burning stretch of his cock filling you almost too much for your oversensitive pussy to bear. He gave you a fraction of a second to adjust, then his hips were snapping up to meet yours, one hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back, his lips on your neck, sucking and biting. His other hand was on your waist, his fingers digging into the flesh, urging you to move.

“Don’t hold back,” Chris moaned. “I want you to ride me hard.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders and your legs tightened on either side of his hips, your knees pressed into the mattress as you moved. Chris’s hands were tight on your waist as he pulled your hips down, his own coming up to bury his substantial cock deep inside you. You moaned, moving faster, your breath tearing in and out of your throat as Chris fucked you into oblivion.

Chris groaned, his thrusts becoming harder and more erratic as he continued to move. He tensed, his grip tightening, his cock pulsing as he came, his arms crushing you to his chest. Another orgasm exploded through you at the last second, your head thrown back as the pleasure weaved its way through every nerve ending.

The two of you fell to the bed, spent. Chris’s touches were soft and gentle against your skin as he hugged you to him and caressed your body. You took his face in your hands, your fingers scratching at his beard, and kissed him.

“Am I forgiven?” you giggled.

“Hmm, for now,” he chuckled. “You might have to apologize some more later.”


End file.
